


All My Roads Lead Back To You

by Reddwarfer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, First Kiss, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Making Up, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Tony and Steve work stuff out, this fic loves Steve and Tony equally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 19:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13083768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/pseuds/Reddwarfer
Summary: Tony and Steve find their way back into each other's lives in the most Steve and Tony way possible. The only things that stand between them talking things out are one of them being a fugitive, the Accords, Everett Ross, Hydra, and their own stubbornness.





	All My Roads Lead Back To You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dophne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dophne/gifts).



> Dophne, I was pleased to receive your prompts. I sort of chose one and then added a little bit of a few of the others for flavour. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> This takes place after Spiderman: Homecoming, but disregards anything from the trailers of any unreleased movies. 
> 
> Thanks so much to my beta, Q. Your help was invaluable. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Tony hovered in the air on the outskirts of a small facility the former Captain America had decided to dismantle. Tracking down the leads from he'd gotten from the bunker in Siberia, he assumed. Now with his precious Bucky on ice and no longer willing to work with the Avengers, Steve seemed to have too much time on his hands and no inclination to spend that time sunning himself somewhere tropical. No, that would've made Tony's life easier. 

Instead, Steve seemed to be working on his own mission, without a shield or a team or proper backup of any kind. Tony decided that the only thing he could do about this involved shadowing his little field-trips and waiting until Steve inevitably got in over his head. Then, Tony would swoop in to the rescue and bask in being able to repeat every little speech Steve had ever given him on teamwork.

So far, Steve hadn't really needed his help, which, yes, burned a little. But a lot of things in Tony's life burned a little. He could deal. An explosion nearby jolted him out of his daydream of rescuing a grateful and apologetic Steve, and made him focus back on the situation.

″FRIDAY, what was that explosion?″ Tony asked, flying a little closer. He'd brought his latest armor, Shifty, an improvement on Sneaky. The stealth capacity improved by ten percent and had less of a sacrifice on power drainage if he had to fight in it. 

″A transformer exploded due to a Hydra agent being thrown into it,″ FRIDAY replied. 

Just then, a man ran from the backdoor of the now-smoking building. He had on Hydra colours. Tony fired a small repulsor blast at him, knocking him out. 

Another small explosion sounded, more smoke billowing on the left-side of the building. ″Gotta admit, he doesn't do things halfway.″

″Steve Rogers is now exiting the building and leaving on his motorcycle,″ FRIDAY announced, five minutes later. ″It's advisable to get to a minimum safe distance.″

″Rightio,″ Tony said, shooting up into the air. Two minutes later, a series of larger explosions left the compound as nothing more than a pile of rubble. ″Wait another five minutes, then patch me through to Ross.″

~*~

″Mr. Stark,″ Ross greeted, sounding not at all happy to hear from him. ″What do you have for me?″

″Mr. Ross,″ Tony replied in a similar tone of voice. ″I tracked down another Hydra facility hit by Rogers, unfortunately, he was gone by the time I arrived.″

″Is that so,″ Ross said. ″If I'm not mistaken, this is the fifth time you've not managed to get to Rogers in time. The last four times, all my men had to search through for clues is rubble. I'm guessing this time is no different?″ Tony didn't bother to respond. ″If you can't handle the simple task of locating and capturing Rogers, I might need to find someone more capable.″

″If you had someone—how did you phrase it—more capable, then you wouldn't be talking to me now. Sad to say, I'm the best you've got, which, by the way, is the best anyone could possibly have. If it weren't for me, you'd be sitting there, twiddling your thumbs. The closest you could get to Cap without me is staring at Captain America fanart.″

″If only your results matched your ego,″ Ross snapped. ″If I find out you're working with him, Stark...″

Tony snorted. ″Working with the man who betrayed me? Why in god's name would I do that? No, wait. Don't answer that. Don't care. End call.″ 

″Ross is attempting to call you back.″

″Send it to voicemail, FRIDAY.″

″Will do, boss.″

He used to make a play at being conciliatory to Ross when it suited him. Now, it turned into another person who thought they could force Tony into a corner and make him dance to their tune. It got old quick, and Tony had more important things to do than play nice with people who would never play nice back. Plus, the more he bristled at Ross's demands, the more Ross assumed it due to Tony being under his thumb. And that? That worked in Tony's favour.

~*~

″Hey, FRIDAY,″ Tony began as he sauntered into his workshop. ″Do you have all the data from the last facility added to the predictive algorithm?"

″Yes, boss,″ FRIDAY replied. The screens lit up with the new data being processed. The difficulty of predicting Steve's next move was two-fold. One, the sheer amount of data needing to be processed to figure out where the potential locations were, coupled with the fact that Tony didn't know what intel Steve had that he didn't and vice versa. The second issue being Steve himself, who lived to defy Tony, even when it came to cooperating with Tony's predictability models. 

″Let me know if it comes up with anything,″ Tony said, swiveling in his chair. He wanted to, no, needed to get to Steve's next target before Steve did. He wanted to do it just to prove that he could. So when Steve showed up, he'd have no choice but to acknowledge Tony beyond a phone and a dumb note.

Tony didn't really know why the whole thing became so important to him. If he were honest with himself, his reasons barely made sense. He just couldn't seem to make himself let go of the idea of wanting to catch Steve needing him, his help. He wanted Steve to admit that he couldn't do this without Tony.

″Pepper is calling,″ FRIDAY stated, jolting him out of his ruminations. 

Tony slumped down in his chair. Pepper could only be calling for one reason: Ross. ″Put her through.″

″Tony,″ Pepper greeted in that disgruntled tone that she used especially for him. ″Haven't we discussed why antagonizing Ross is a bad idea if you're intent on getting all of the Avengers, current and former, out of his cross-hairs?″

″But he's just so insufferable,″ Tony complained. ″I hate having to play nice when I don't want to. I just hate it.″

Pepper sighed. ″Tony,″ she said, voice now a touch more gentle. ″I know things haven't been exactly easy since we called it off, but you can't take it out on people like Ross. It'll just end up causing more problems.″

Tony's lips thinned at Pepper's generous description of their breakup being referred to as _since we called it off_ , but he refrained from bringing it up as it'd only end up being another argument he wouldn't win. ″Fine, the next time he calls, I'll nod and smile like a good puppet. Will that be all, Ms. Potts?″

After a few seconds of Pepper's silence, she finally replied, ″Yes. That'll be all, Mr. Stark.″

With that, the call ended, just as quietly as their relationship had a month ago.

He got to his feet, grabbing his jacket. ″I'm going to check on that Spiderkid. See if he rescued anymore churro-gifting aunties. FRIDAY, Let me know if the algorithm comes up with anything.″

″Yes, boss.″

~*~

Tony poked idly at the specs for an armor that could be used in space. He didn't quite have it down, yet, and his brain didn't feel like cooperating, either.

It'd been close to seven months since the last time he'd seen Steve face to face. He'd reached the point where he didn't exactly hate Steve with the same fervor he did in the moment of discovery. Or really hate Steve at all. The hurt still festered in a ball in his stomach, existed alongside the want of him. Tony did his best to ignore both in equal measures. In honesty, he'd given it equal odds on whether he'd want to kiss him or punch him when he next faced Steve. 

Barnes, on the other hand, he still had some anger to work through. If—or more likely—when he saw Barnes again, he rated the chances of him trying to at least get in a really good punch at seventy percent. 

Sitting back in his chair, Tony stared up at the ceiling. ″What am I doing?″

″Currently, you are sitting in your workshop, not working on the armor code named Rocket Man,″ FRIDAY said in a slightly chiding tone.

Tony rolled his eyes. ″Thank you for that, FRIDAY.″

″You're welcome, boss.″

He could put FRIDAY on silent mode, but having the occasional commentary broke up the silence he often found himself in as of late. The compound seemed larger in its lack of residents. Sure, Happy called it home. Rhodey spent less time there now that his rehab had progressed to the point of unassisted mobility. Vision, on the other hand, hardly spent time there at all, anymore. Tony suspected he and Wanda had gotten back in contact since her escape from the Raft. 

Steve might have gotten everyone out of the Raft in the wake of the disaster, but Tony had been the one to keep them that way. Ross had his sights firmly set on Steve. Barton had gone home back to his farm. Wilson had gone back to his home and job. Lang went back to doing whatever it is he did before, which Tony neither knew nor cared about. Wanda still, however, remained in the wind.

Tony had gone to see both Barton and Wilson when they got back to the States. The meeting with Wilson went slightly better than the one with Barton, but the wounds on both sides had been still too fresh for more than a basic acknowledgment that they'd accept a phone call when the next world-ending apocalypse tried to happen. 

Pepper never moved in the compound, hadn't lived with Tony since his mansion in Malibu sat at the bottom of the ocean in pieces, and maybe that should've been a sign. Pepper, more than anyone in Tony's life, put proof to the idea that sometimes love wasn't enough.

″Boss, a potential target for Steve Rogers identified,″ FRIDAY announced. The data popped up on the screen, including the layout of a building and a satellite overview. 

″Excellent work, FRIDAY, buy yourself something nice,″ Tony replied, eyes darting all over the data-feed. He could be there in less than two hours.

~*~

The dull grey building look innocuous as Tony approached it. There'd been no sign of any activity around the perimeter, either from Steve or Hydra.

″FRIDAY, give me something,″ Tony ordered, landing in the vacant parking lot. 

″Only one active source of power can be read from inside the building. No life signs currently detected in a 200 meter radius.″

″Pull up the data on the predictability algorithm,″ Tony ordered as he made his way to the entrance. His data apparently had a flaw or two. He briefly spared a thought of disappointment at not getting to get one over on Cap, then shrugged. Might as well give the building a look since he'd come all that way.

″Keep an eye out for Cap, FRIDAY,″ Tony said, stepping inside. ″He might be working on the same faulty data as I am.″

FRIDAY replied, ″Will do, boss.″

Room after room, Tony found nothing but the signs of a place long-abandoned. Desks empty, computers obsolete, covered in dust. A few piles of papers with nothing of note on them and an impressive collection of unused Post-Its remained. 

The last room in the hallway on the ground floor appeared to be the source of energy that FRIDAY had detected. Inside, he discovered a fairly powerful computer. It outdated the other tech in the building so much as to make it anomalous. 

″FRIDAY, run a scan again,″ Tony ordered. The strangeness of this machine in the building unnerved him a little. 

″Nothing new detected, boss,″ FRIDAY replied dutifully. 

At that, Tony stepped out of the armor, said, ″Sentry mode,″ and walked up to the computer to puzzle it out.

After glancing through a few files of little significance, FRIDAY announced, ″Movement on the perimeter of the property.″

″Check it out,″ Tony replied. ″It's probably Cap. Observe and verify identity, then return. Do not engage.″

″Yes, boss,″ FRIDAY replied, and the armor flew off toward the exit.

Tony turned his attention back to the computer, looking in a promising file which seemed to have specs for a device of some sort. 

A strange hiss came from behind him, like a sealed door opening, but he didn't have enough time to react before something hard and heavy slammed into the side of his head.

~*~

When Tony blinked himself awake, he found himself in a small, nearly empty room. Only a chair, bolted to the floor, kept it from being completely bare.

Any relief Tony felt at not discovering blood on the lump to his head disappeared at realizing his watch no longer decorated his wrist. The door, of course, didn't budge. ″Shit,″ Tony mumbled. "Shit, shit, shit.″ 

He sat down heavily in the chair and took another look around the room. It didn't seem like the same building he'd been in, but he couldn't say that for sure. That FRIDAY hadn't detected anyone in the room with him earlier worried him a little, and that someone had been able to abscond with him without FRIDAY being able to prevent it worried him a bit more. Beyond that, something about the whole situation bothered him, but he couldn't identify why. He needed more information and possibly some ibuprofen. 

″Non-me propitiatory stealth-tech?″ Tony asked the emptiness of the room. ″No. It wouldn't have made that sound. Panic room?″ Tony tapped his foot against the floor. ″No, the discrepancy between room dimensions would've pinged on FRIDAY's radar. Hmmm.″ Tony would've given half his goatee for his ergonomic, custom-made swivel chair. ″Panic closet? Yes. The dimensions would've been small that the dead zone wouldn't have triggered as suspicious. Huh.″ Tony considered the implications of it all and didn't exactly like what it implied.

~*~

About thirty minutes later, by Tony's best guess, the door to the room opened. Tony shot to his feet, fists clenched at his side. In came a smarmy-looking older white man with thinning grey hair and an ugly mustache, wearing an ill-fitted suit and a smug grin, flanked on either side by well-armed mercenary types. In his head, Tony dubbed them Smarmy, Merckie the Merc and The Other One.

″Mr. Stark,″ Smarmy greeted, ″how interesting to find you here. Quite auspicious, even.″ 

Tony rolled his eyes. ″What do you want?″

″That is the question, isn't it?″ Smarmy smarmed at him. ″We're waiting for one more guest and we can get things on the road.″

Behind the man, Tony noticed a quiet, moving shadow, followed by a whisper on the air. Without hesitating, Tony ducked down just in time to see a shield ricochet off Merkie the Merc into The Other One, who both dropped down on the ground, knocked out. In a fluid movement, Tony did a forward roll, punched Smarmy in the gut, and elbowed him on top of the head when he bent over. 

″Guess my invitation got lost in the mail,″ came a familiar voice. Steve stepped out of the shadow, face solemn, but not without a hint of mischief playing on his lips.

Tony righted himself, brushing the dust off the knees of his suit. ″If you make a 'fashionably late' joke, you're banned.″

″Good to see you, Tony,″ Steve greeted. His suit no longer bore the familiar flag aesthetic, and instead looked like he put it in the wash with ten bottles of dark blue Rit. Steve gripped his shield, similarly free of its previous colours, albeit restored to its former unscratched state, and placed it back on its holster.

Tony looked down at the three men knocked out on the floor, affecting an attitude of nonchalance as best he could. ″Rogers.″ 

Steve sighed, but didn't say the _Tony_ hovering on his lips. Instead, he looked around the room, and at the men on the ground, eyes switching from imploring to tactical the second they left Tony's face. ″Let's get you out of here, and then we can talk.″

″My watch,″ Tony said, putting his hand on Steve's arm to stop him. A fleeting memory of Steve jerking away from him what felt like another life time came to him, but Tony ignored it. ″I can't leave my tech in their hands.″

″It's been recovered along with your armor,″ Steve replied, ″C'mon, let's get out of here before their back up arrives.″

″Recovered?″ Tony pressed, even as he followed Steve out of the room. ″Where are they now? Not gonna lie, Cap, I'd like to slip into something more comfortable. Preferably a shiny red titanium gold alloy suit with cute little silver accents.″

″Tony, if you just let me get you somewhere safe, I promise I'll explain everything,″ Steve said, ″About this situation, and everything else.″

″It's not just the colours on your suit and shield that's changed,″ Tony commented, and immediately regretted it at the expression on Steve's face.

″Please, Tony.″ Steve fixed him with a look that would cause the resistance of lesser men to crumble in the face of raw need. 

Tony could withstand it, if he wanted, but he felt indulgent when he said, ″Fine, sure, Steve, whatever. You better keep your promise.″

Smiling, Steve walked over to where his bike had been tucked away, hidden from plain sight. He tossed a helmet over to Tony before straddling the bike. Tony quickly donned it, and got on behind Steve, not bothering to hesitate as he wrapped his arms around Steve's waist. ″Thanks, Tony.″ 

They'd only made it back on the main road when Steve spoke again. ″I also wanted to thank you for the shield.″

Tony shrugged, knowing Steve could feel it. ″It was nothing.″

″It wasn't nothing,″ Steve countered. ″It was the opposite of nothing. When we last spoke...well, we'll talk about it at the safehouse. I just wanted to say I'm not ignorant of what it must have cost you to send it back to me and I appreciate it.″

Not knowing quite what to say, Tony shrugged again. When he saw Steve leaving with the shield that day, back in Siberia, he didn't think he could've responded any other way. Seeing it in Steve's hand shot through him with a visceral pain. Having Steve leave it behind felt like a balm only in the most immediate aftermath. Months later, keeping it no longer felt like the right thing. Maybe it had been the therapy or passage of time or sheer force of how much he found he'd missed Steve, but passing it along to Steve through T'Challa seemed like the right thing to do.

″It belongs to you,″ Tony said, eventually. ″It didn't seem right to keep it any longer.″

Steve's didn't speak again, but he placed his hand over Tony's, where he had been holding on, and squeezed. It was enough.

~*~

Tony couldn't tell how long they'd been driving, only that it'd been long enough for his ass to feel increasingly numb. They left anything urban behind an hour ago, and the pavement turned into gravel turned into a dirt road to something that became less a road than a suggestion of one. Minutes later, Steve pulled in front of a small, wooden cabin, and turned off the engine.

Eagerly, Tony got off the bike, doing his best to make his movements smooth and cool, and not at all like he needed an hour in a Jacuzzi. 

Tony offered his helmet back and Steve hung it by the strap over the handlebar.

Steve led Tony inside the cabin, which was well-lived in, though neat, and not nearly as rustic as he'd been expecting.

″Nice place you got here,″ Tony commented, taking in the comfortable-looking sofa, which looked new, and warm, rich tones on the rugs and walls. 

Shooting him a strange look, Steve replied, ″Don't you recognize it? It's yours, after all.″

Tony thought about it for a moment, then said, ″Oh. Well,″ he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. ″When I sent the, uh, care package, I had FRIDAY handle the accommodations. It's easier to lie about knowing your whereabouts if I don't actually know your whereabouts.″

″That explains somethings,″ Steve said, sounding like he'd had a revelation.

″So,″ Tony said, leaning against the back of the couch. He watched as Steve pushed back his cowl, adjusting his stance into something less defensive came naturally. ″About that promise. Time to fess up, Steve.″

″Debrief first then personal stuff,″ Steve said, with a nod that indicated that it was less a question and more the plan. ″I'd been busy the last few months. Trying to find information to help..,″ Steve darted a glance at Tony, who simply waved off the name he knew Steve had been about to name. ″To help Bucky. This was before you apparently caught wind of what I was up to,″ Steve finished, shooting Tony a knowing look.

Tony shrugged unrepentant. ″Everyone has hobbies.″

″While there, I discovered something that had me concerned about the Accords and the people involved with them that stemmed beyond what I'd felt already.″ Steve held a hand up. ″I don't want to get into it again with you. I don't want to fight.″ Tony nodded his agreement, despite the need to argue curling up in his throat as familiar as the burn of alcohol going down. 

″From what I could gather, Everett Ross is the type of man who's dangerous because he believes the ends justify the means and he doesn't have a problem with any means necessary to get what he wants. It's a dangerous combination.″

″Not exactly a surprise, there,″ Tony agreed. He hated people like Ross like how he hated the parts of himself that sometimes veer toward that same behaviour. He had limits, but those limits seemed to get looser depending on the threat he faced. 

″I knew you were tracking me,″ Steve said, ″I knew I had backup in case one of these locations were a trap. I just didn't anticipate you'd set off the trap yourself. How were you tracking me, by the way? T'Challa said he didn't detect any tracking devices in the ″care package″ you sent.

″In the suit,″ Tony explained. ″When I sent your things along, I'd put a tracker in your suit. However, it's reactive to heat, so it'd only trigger when you were wearing it, working up a bit of a sweat. I didn't,″ Tony paused to figure out a way for it to sound less invasive,″ I didn't want to spy on you, really. It wasn't about knowing where you were at all times or tracking you down. I just wanted to make sure you were...safe.″

″Tony,″ Steve said, voice gentle. ″I...well, that's...something.″ He took a step or two closer, then a deep breath before continuing. ″When I arrived at the building, I saw your armor. Thought it was you for a second. FRIDAY had your watch. The people who took you tossed it aside. She apparently ran simulations and determined I'd have greater success at extracting you from your location without harming you than she could in your suit.″

″Where is my armor now?″ Tony asked, not exactly loving the idea of being separated from his suit for any length of time.

″Back at the compound. At Pepper's request,″ Steve added, forestalling Tony's objections. ″When I realized what happened, I contacted her through FRIDAY. She's handling things on her her end. She asked that we lay low while she does her magic. Her plan relies on us not being found by Ross' people before things get put into motion. Hence the whole no-tech get away.″

″What plan is this exactly?″ Tony asked, pushing away from the couch to pace. Knowing he couldn't use tech made him feel immediately restless, like being confined. 

Steve's eyes followed him. ″Pepper and T'Challa are bringing the information I'd been gathering to use against Ross and his associates as well as well as leverage to get the Accords further amended into something I think we all will feel comfortable agreeing with.″

Tony stopped pacing, and faced Steve, ″I never wanted these Accords to tear us apart. As a team. As friends. I just,″ Tony stopped. ″If we all had your heart, we wouldn't need them. Or something like them. A compromise you're willing to agree to,″ Tony said, then, giving Steve a small smile. ″Yeah, I think we can work with that.″

″Good,″ Steve sounded relieved and a smile curled in the corner of his mouth. ″That's good.″

″Just so you know,″ Tony said, ″When you tell me there's a compromise you're willing to agree to, all I can picture is you with a Ron Swanson permit.″

″I don't know what that means,″ Steve replied. ″Who is Ron Swanson? What kind of permit is this?″

″He's from a show. It doesn't matter.″Tony shook his head. ″It's just a piece of paper with 'I can do what I want' printed on it.″

At that, Steve threw his head back and laughed. ″I can see that,″ Steve said, still amused. 

″Can we put a pin on the second half of the discussion,″ Tony asked, moving around Steve to enter the small kitchen area. ″I'm starved and if I have to have the following discussion sober, I'd least like to not be starved as well.″

″Sure, Tony,″ Steve agreed easily. Too easily. Tony looked at him over his shoulder and saw a man that looked like he received a temporary stay of execution. ″I can make us some sandwiches if you like.″

″That's fine,″ Tony said, stepping back from the the fridge to let Steve take over. ″I've improved my skills in the kitchen enough that I won't poison anyone accidentally, but I still generally prefer anyone else's cooking to my own.″

~*~

″When you see him next, tell Peter I'm proud of him,″ Steve said, after Tony had relayed the decision Peter had made a few months ago.

Tony sat back in his chair, looking at Steve over the now empty plates between them. ″You could tell him yourself. It'd mean more coming from you directly.″

″Our last interaction wasn't exactly what you'd call friendly,″ Steve replied. He picked up their plates and brought them over to the sink to wash. 

″True,″ Tony agreed, ″but neither was ours, but we're still here, now, talking. And no one's even thrown a punch yet.″

″Yet?″ Steve asked, glancing at Tony over his shoulder. His expression asking a thousand more questions than the one Steve actually voiced.

Fiddling with his half-empty class of water, he allowed, ″Maybe not at all.″

″Tony,″ Steve said, abruptly turning off the water and leaving the half-washed dishes in the sink. ″I never wanted to hurt you.″

″And yet,″ Tony said, unable to stop himself. No matter how much he wanted to believe he'd gotten over it. That time had passed. He couldn't stop aching with the feeling of betrayal.

″But I did,″ Steve continued, positioning himself directly in front of Tony, only inches apart. ″I hurt you and I'm sorry. I know I should've told you and I didn't.″

Tony sighed. ″Yeah, you should have. And maybe I would've reacted in the exact way you feared I would,″ Tony continued, forcing himself to honesty. ″I shouldn't have punched you, that day. I shouldn't have let myself lose control with Barnes. I know I need to say it to him. Maybe. In a few years, when I can.″

″He'd understand if you couldn't. More than anyone,″ Steve replied, tentatively reaching out to squeeze Tony's shoulder, and leaving his hand there. Tony let him. ″I appreciate it, though, for myself.″

″Yeah,″ Tony said, leaning into the touch. ″I kept trying to figure out how everything went so wrong. How it got to that point. BARF helped to a point, but the rest of it? Just trying to heal an old, re-opened wound."

″Not one of us alone owns what happened back then,″ Steve said, and meant it. ″Zemo didn't help, sure. Each of us made decisions that made things worse, in hindsight. However, we can't keep focused on the past and I know what that sounds like, coming from me,″ Steve added. ″All we can do is try better next time.″

″I know,″ Tony said, and he did. He spent hours upon hours analyzing data trying to figure out how to respond to problems in the future without making the same mistakes again. ″I'm tired of being angry,″ he admitted. ″Especially at you.″

″Me too, Tony.″ This close, Tony could see how worn down Steve looked. Like the weight of the world weighed more heavily on his shoulders than it ever had before. Tony didn't know why he did it, but he opened his arms, offering a rare hug, and Steve went into his arms immediately. Everything bad between them hadn't disappeared, but it did feel as if it'd been put to rest with the physical act. 

″All right,″ Steve said after a few moments, slowly pulling out of the embrace. ″I don't have the internet or netflix, but I do have a television and dvd player. We can watch a movie.″

″Sure,″ Tony agreed easily. Part of him wished they were still hugging, but he tried not to think about why. ″What've you got?″

″Why don't you pick?″ Steve offered, showing him the small collection of all new-never opened movies on small shelf under the television. 

Tony grabbed Star Wars: A New Hope, and gave Steve a ridiculously pleased grin. ″Definitely this. It's a crime you haven't seen this yet.″

Steve smiled, eyes crinkling. ″Good thing I'm already a fugitive, then.″

″You're such a shit, sometimes,″ Tony said, laughing a bit. ″Whatever, Richard Kimble, are we going to watch it or are you gonna sass me some more?″

″By all means,″ Steve replied, magnanimous. He waved his arm in front of him in concession. 

After Tony got the movie ready, he sat down on the couch on the end opposite of Steve. He looked at him, and said, ″You're gonna love this.″

″I'm sure I will,″ Steve agreed, a small smile on his lips.

~*~

When the credits rolled, Tony turned to Steve, who had somehow inched close enough to Tony that they were mere inches apart, and said, ″What did you think? Did you like Han? I always loved Han as a kid. Wanted to get my hands on the Falcon, you know? Figured I could fix it up to work better than ever. How about Luke? You seem like you'd be a Luke fan. Actually, you kinda remind me of Luke, a little bit.″

Steve didn't reply at first, still watching Tony ramble in amusement. ″I've a confession to make.″

″Yeah?″ Tony said, instantly suspicious. ″Don't tell me you didn't like it. I couldn't handle it.″

″No, not that.″ Steve shook his head, biting at his lip. ″It's just. I've actually seen this one once before.″

Tony stared at Steve, not quite knowing what to do about what he'd heard. ″You little shit!″

Laughing, Steve shook his head. ″You were so excited. I couldn't bear to disappoint you.″

″You're such a little shit,″ Tony repeated, and pushed on Steve's shoulders. Steve's hands came up to grab his, but just held them there.  
″Tony,″ Steve said, and leaned in close, closer than he'd ever been before. 

Tossing any caution Tony may have had out the window, he closed the distance between them. When their lips touched, dissolving quickly into a kiss as heavy and desperate as he'd ever had, it felt like everything between them finally made sense. Like it had all been leading to this.

Steve reached up and cupped Tony's face, holding him like Tony was precious. His lips slowed, the kiss turning from heated to deep, filled with all the things unsaid between them. Steve's lips were plump, soft, and just the slightest bit wet. Every kiss felt like drowning in warm honey.

″Please,″ Tony whispered, tugging Steve on top of him as he tumbled back on the couch cushions. 

Steve shifted them both until Tony comfortably lay along the length of the couch, and covered him with his own body. ″Anything you want, sweetheart.″

″You,″ Tony replied, desperate. He wrapped his arms around Steve, not wanting to let go quite yet, even to take off Steve's shirt. ″Just you.″

~*~

Tony woke the next morning slowly, too warm and comfortable to want to get up for good.

″Finally decided to join the world, sweetheart,″ Steve said by way of greeting, coming into the room with two steaming cups of coffee. 

Shifting to a sitting position, Tony made sure everything delicate stayed covered before reaching for the mug Steve held out to him. ″Nothing wrong with staying in bed once in a while, darling.″

″No, there isn't,″ Steve agreed easily and joined Tony on the bed with his own coffee. ″Last night was...″  
Tamping down every insecurity Tony ever felt, every inch of him that wanted to sabotage whatever this was between them before it even began, Tony simply turned to give Steve his attention, and meaningfully took a sip of his coffee.

″It was everything to me,″ Steve confessed, finally. ″I can't go back to not talking to you. To not seeing you. I'm tired of losing the people I care about most.″

″You haven't lost me, Steve,″ Tony said, putting his coffee down on the bedside table. He moved to straddle Steve's lap so he had Steve's full attention. ″You haven't lost me. I haven't lost you. Sure, most of what led up until now has been a clusterfuck of epic proportions, in part due to the fact we're both equally stubborn. If we put that stubbornness to making this work between us, then it can't possibly fail.″

″Yeah?″ Steve asked, smiling again. He put his hands on Tony's hips. ″Can't fail?″

″Well,″ Tony said with a shrug. ″Either that or everyone will be running for the nearest fallout shelter when it comes to picking the colour scheme for our spring wedding.″

″Never change, sweetheart″ Steve said, laughing. ″Just. Never change.″  
″Only if you don't.″ Then, Tony leaned down, kissed Steve on the mouth, smiled, and meant it with his whole heart.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is apparently the name of a song by Ronnie Milsap. I only discovered this when I googled it to make sure there weren't already fifteen stories with this title.


End file.
